


Complementary

by Sycamoure



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Gen 1, Slow Burn, actually its more friends to enemies to friends to lovers, this is going to be a lot of fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycamoure/pseuds/Sycamoure
Summary: When Green is fourteen, his life shatters into a million tiny pieces.Of course, it's at the hands of Red. Green is the Pokémon League Champion for all of a half an hour. Thirty minutes. Then Red completelyobliteratedhim, took the title and Oak's praise, and everything fell apart.Green is left trying to put it all back together, hoping that's even possible.When Green is fifteen, he starts seeing a therapist.She tells him exactly what he expects her to say - that it's not healthy for Green to bottle his feelings up, that he needs to let it out somehow, even if it's not through what he says.What hedoesn'texpect, however, is the suggestion of making a playlist.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ookido Green | Blue Oak/Red
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	Complementary

_"No matter what I do, no matter what I do, I can't move forward / As is the custom in this hippy town…"_

_\-- "Tokyo Ghetto", E ve_

* * *

When Green is fourteen, his life shatters into a million tiny pieces.

Of course, it's at the hands of Red. Red, who started his pokémon journey on the exact same day as Green, but still became leagues stronger than him. Red, who was always one step behind, and yet somehow one step ahead.

Red, who stormed into the Indigo Plateau with fiery determination in his eyes, six pokéballs at his belt, and won without even saying a word.

Green is the Pokémon League Champion for all of a half an hour. Thirty minutes. No more, no less. Just long enough for Red to catch up to him, and just long enough for Green to get comfortable. Then Red completely _obliterated_ him, took the title and Oak's praise, and everything fell apart.

Green is left trying to put it all back together, hoping that's even possible.

He finds out a week later that Red is gone. Just… _gone,_ as if he never existed in the first place. He gave up his Champion title, took his pokémon, and left, went to a place so secluded that no one can find him. Somehow, that's what hurts the most.

When Green is fifteen, he starts seeing a therapist.

She's nice enough, with a soft smile that masks incredible skills of perception, and she has a therapy Audino that adores him. They spend all their time trying to work him down, using roundabout techniques and gentle words to try to get him to vent his rampant pain. It never works. He doesn't let it, because he's the strongest Trainer in Kanto now that Red's out of the picture, and strong Trainers don't cry. Even if they did, Green wouldn't talk, because he understands less about his situation than they do.

It shouldn't hurt. He should be _happy_ that Red's gone. He should be able to stand tall, learn from his mistakes, and grow stronger. He should be able to reclaim his title.

But it feels like there's nothing more than empty space where that determination should be. For some reason he can't understand, he thinks that he deserves the pain he's getting, even if he knows that it's not his fault.

The therapist tells him exactly what he expects her to say - that it's not healthy for Green to bottle his feelings up, that he needs to let it out somehow, even if it's not through what he says.

What he _doesn't_ expect, however, is the suggestion of making a playlist.

"Every time you feel something that you can't explain in your own words, I want you to find and add a song that captures that experience to the list," she says, her chin resting on her laced fingers as she smiles at him. "No deleting anything, _ever,_ just adding more and more as you need to. Sometimes it's better to let the words of others resonate with us than to come up with our own."

He scoffs, mostly out of habit. "That's so dumb."

Audino squeaks at him. For a pokémon - especially one without eyebrows - it has the uncanny ability to look extremely disappointed in his sudden snarkiness. He glares back at it.

"Actually, it's not." The therapist leans forward, and there's something about her calculating stare that reminds Green of Lance. "It's a technique I've used multiple times before, and trust me, it does help."

He scowls at her and slumps back, fiddling with the charm of his necklace. The battle of wits she's challenged him to is one he's doomed to lose. A wave of sadness washes over him, the thought of losing yet another challenge painfully overwhelming.

"I think you're missing the point of this exercise, Green," his therapist sighs, her expression and her voice softening into something far more delicate, as if talking to a small child. "This isn't going to magically make everything all better. It's a _starting point,_ not an end goal. It's a way for you to begin to understand yourself better, to explain all of those things that are eating away at you."

He bites the inside of his lip and tries his hardest to look uninterested.

"But most importantly, it helps you learn that no matter how bad things are, you are never, ever alone, Green." She smiles, and it feels genuine, but there's melancholy hidden in her eyes. He knows she can see right through his harsh facade.

He wishes Eevee were here, so he could hold her close and let her nuzzle into his chest, just for that little bit of comfort and distraction. But he’s not allowed to bring in pokémon without permission, his pokéballs confiscated to ensure that. It doesn’t matter anyway. Regardless of whether his pokémon are with him or not, he’ll still be forced to talk about his problems, as if he’s weak, in need of help. The therapy was Daisy’s idea - not his - after all. He wouldn’t be here if she and Gramps hadn’t gotten on his case about how much money he’d be wasting (as if that was ever an issue for _Samuel fucking Oak,_ of all people) if he didn’t go. He just has to tough it out until everyone gives up and stops trying to fix something that isn’t even broken.

Green crosses his arms. “And how am I supposed to find the perfect anthem for a situation when there are literally _millions of songs_ out there to go through?”

His therapist leans back in her chair, her warm smile transforming into a smirk, matching his tone. Audino stares at her.

“Well, think about it. How did you get Pidgeot?”

 _What's that supposed to mean?_ He snorts, rolling his eyes. She clearly knows how pokémon training works, as evident by her Audino and the several other pokéballs resting on her desk, so the answer should be obvious. But he'll give her the satisfaction of getting an answer out of him for once.

"What kind of question is that? I caught him in the tall grass, same as everybody else. Obviously."

"So out of the _millions of pokémon_ out there, you managed to catch this exact Pidgey, train him, and raise him into your Pidgeot?"

"Over like, three years, yeah."

"Green, out of every single pokémon that lives in tall grass, you found this specific Pidgey, the one that was right for you, and evolved it into your pokémon partner. So what makes you think you won't be able to find the right song, too?"

Okay, he doesn't have a comeback for that. He fiddles with his left wristband, pulling it and letting it snap against his wrist over and over again. Audino smiles at him, tugging at its feeler, its piercing gaze lingering on him in what he's pretty sure is an attempt to see into his soul. He feels completely exposed. At least looking at Audino is better than looking at its Trainer, the embarrassment of being outwitted leaving him feeling lost. He swallows it down. Embarrassment is a sign of weakness. He's Green Oak, the strongest Trainer in Kanto. He is _not_ weak.

"Whatever," he says, feigning disinterest. He feels like a child.

The therapist sighs and tries to mask her frustration. Audino squeaks again, crestfallen, its expression and tone giving away what its Trainer tries to hide. A pang of regret grips Green at its reaction, the room suddenly feeling much less welcoming. He knows Audino are very in tune to their Trainers' emotions, but he hadn't meant to hurt it, or his therapist, for that matter.

His wristband makes a particularly loud slap against his wrist, pulling him back to reality.

The therapist's Pokégear beeps, and Green is on his feet by the time she shuts her alarm off.

“Well, time’s up,” Green quips, sarcasm restoring his cheeky facade, placing a hand on his hip with a smirk. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve gotta go. Later!” He turns on his heel, giving a wave of his hand for extra flourish.

"Same time next week," his therapist chimes when he's nearly to the door. She sounds defeated, exhaustion weighing down her voice, as if she hasn't slept in days. Green knows it's his fault for being such an uncooperative patient, despite her numerous and genuine efforts - she hadn't sounded this way at the start of his session.

Guilt suddenly becomes a heavy load resting on his shoulders. She's just doing her job, trying to help. He's reminded by a small voice in the back of his head that she doesn't deserve his behavior, that she's done nothing wrong, that he's gone beyond the realm of being snarky and is getting dangerously close to just being a straight-up asshole. It's not fair to her.

His hand is on the door handle, and he can't explain _why_ he does it, but he pauses.

"Hey, um-"

He takes a deep breath. The feeling of being so honest makes him want to hide, a challenge he's put off facing for as long as he can remember.

"Can I bring Eevee with me next week?"

His voice is soft and unrecognizable to his ears. But when he looks back, his therapist is beaming brighter than he's seen her look in months, as if his words have solved a mystery she's been trying to puzzle out since the day they met.

"Of course," she grins, scribbling something furiously on a clipboard. "I'll get that arranged right away."

Green can't help but smile - just a little - as he closes the door.

It feels like something has been lifted off of him, a thread that's been nagging at him since Red left finally severed. His mind races as he walks down the hallway to the main lobby, relief and regret warring within him, pulling him between wanting to reconcile his past rudeness and feeling completely, totally vulnerable. He doesn't know how to react.

The lady at the front desk hands him his pokéballs with a bright grin and wishes him a pleasant day. When he first started coming here, the kindness of the staff and purposefully warm and welcoming environment was so sweet it made him sick. Now he almost enjoys it.

Maybe something is changing after all these years.

He pushes the thought from his mind as he tosses Pidgeot's pokéball upward, the buildings of Viridian City looming high above him from the office's front entrance.

Pidgeot appears before him in a burst of white light. Green places a hand on his beak, giving his pokémon a comforting pet before asking anything of him.

"Hey, pal," he sighs. "You ready to go back home?"

Technically, "home" _should_ be Viridian City. With Giovanni gone, Lance offered Green the position of Gym Leader months ago, and there was no way Green could turn him down. Plus the job came with a living space above Viridian's Gym. The only hitch was that Green had to be at least sixteen in order to live on his own, and even that required a significant amount of paperwork to prepare. So, despite the fact that he'd give _anything_ to leave his tiny, suffocating hometown and his grandfather behind, Green is stuck living with the rest of the Oak family until his sixteenth birthday.

Pidgeot coos, his annoyance unmistakable. He's not fond of commuting to and from Pallet Town every day, but he's nothing if not a loyal pokémon.

"I know, I hate it too," Green says, climbing onto Pidgeot's back. "But I'll give you a berry when we get back, okay?"

Pidgeot gives him an excited chirp and prepares to take off. Green smiles.

"It's only for a few more months," he mutters as he and Pidgeot rocket into the afternoon sky.

* * *

Pallet Town is somehow even more suffocating from the air. Its narrow streets, lined with tiny, rustic houses, are paved with dirt instead of concrete or gravel, the outskirts of the town defined by tall grass and bright forests. Unlike Viridian, no buildings stretch up into the sky. Instead, small gardens and lawns fill the spaces between single-family homes, pet pokémon darting between bushes in games of hide and seek, the occasional small child chasing them. No businesses call Pallet Town home. Aside from the lab, there is, quite literally, nowhere to go. Pallet Town has nothing to its name besides being the home of Professor Oak and the two most recent Champions of Kanto.

Green’s neighbors' young children wave at him and shout with glee as Pidgeot descends from above. He waves back, a smirk on his face. Even though his hometown may be far too small and close knit, being recognized and idolized by those around him still fills him with pride, especially when those in question are little kids waiting for the day they can become trainers too.

The local fame is the one thing about Pallet Town that makes living there bearable.

He slides down from Pidgeot’s back, and, true to his word, fishes a berry from his bag. Pidgeot receives it with a happy chirp, a sound much too small and sweet for a pokémon of his size. Green laughs, gently petting the feathers on Pidgeot’s head as he recalls him into his pokéball.

The sky is stained orange and pink from the setting sun when Green returns home. The sounds of Daisy scrambling about the kitchen resonate throughout the house, startling several random pokémon that Green doesn’t recognize laying about, including a particularly pampered Meowth that looks rather offended.

“Hi!” Daisy beams, poking her head into the hallway. She looks completely exasperated, her hair sticking out in every direction, several bowls in each hand. “Sorry about the pokémon everywhere, things are a bit crazy right now since so many people want their pokémon groomed today for some reason - also dinner should be ready in a little while. Anyway, how was your session?”

“Same as always,” Green scoffs, crossing his arms with a shrug. Daisy frowns at him. “I keep telling you, this stuff’s pointless. I mean, judging by the way you look right now, I think you need it more than me.”

Daisy’s frown turns into a harsh glare. Okay, maybe that was a bit too far.

“You can say that all you want, Green,” she snaps, heading back into the kitchen. “But we’ve had this conversation before, and you’re going. You need to get your mental health in check, whether you like it or not.” 

"You can’t force me! You’re not my mom, Daisy, whether you like it or not.”

“I can’t force you, but Gramps can.”

He growls, knowing Daisy is right. “Whatever. I’m going upstairs.”

Green doesn't tell Daisy that he doesn't think she deserves to be saddled with the weight of having to take care of herself and him on her own. That he doesn't think it's fair for Oak to tell Green how to take care of himself, when he's never around to take care of Green in the first place.

Instead, he just slams his bedroom door and slides to the ground, forehead resting on his knees.

Eevee bursts out of her pokéball, despite him not asking her to. He hardly even notices until she places a single paw on his leg and whines at him.

He uncurls himself, scratching behind her ear, a soft grin pulling at the corners of his lips. She mewls, bouncing into his lap and placing her paws on his chest. Her eyes are wide with worry. As his starter, she can often tell exactly how he's feeling, and makes it her mission to help him through it.

"I'm fine," he sighs, softly petting the fluffy mass of fur around her neck.

She stomps her paw against his chest, makes a loud bark of annoyance, and licks his nose. He laughs and taps a finger against her nose as payback. She looks extremely proud of herself.

"That was gross, Vee," he giggles. "Seriously. I'm fine. I'm just…"

He doesn't know how to say it. He's not even sure what _it_ is. Frustration, maybe, at Gramps, at Daisy, at himself, at everyone and everything. Or perhaps it's a lack of motivation, nothing left for him to accomplish now that his reign as Champion is long gone. He just feels completely lost. He's got nothing to strive for now, nowhere to go from here, the feeling a memento of him accomplishing his life goals at fourteen.

He can't exactly expect Eevee to understand that, though.

"...I'm just tired, girl," he says, giving her his most sincere look of innocence, but she doesn't buy it. She presses her paw into his chest again with a tiny squeak.

He huffs and stares back at her, his mouth pressed into a straight line, but she stays adamant, glaring up at him.

He can't take her little pouty face. "Okay, fine, fine, fine. Why don't we give that stupid idea the Doc gave us a try, yeah?"

He'd never give his therapist the privilege of knowing he actually considered fulfilling one of her assignments, but doing what she suggested is better than wallowing in despair.

Somehow, Eevee either knows exactly what his therapist suggested to him, or knows that said suggestions are usually for the best, because she seems satisfied. She gives him a cheerful bark, holding her paw up, the other three still firmly pressed onto him for balance. He can't fight the genuine grin on his face as he returns the gesture and gives her a little fist bump.

"Then let's go!" He exclaims, scooping her into his arms with far more enthusiasm - which is usually reserved solely for battles - than necessary. She barks once more and attempts to lick his face.

He grabs his phone from his desk, fishing around in one of his drawers for a pair of earbuds. They were both gifts from Daisy for his last birthday, meant to replace the old, broken down tech he took with him on his journey. Apparently the Silph Company had been developing it for years, in an attempt to phase out the bulky, now-outdated tech used in the Pokégear. Green had been so focused on winning back then that he hadn't noticed the technological advancements at all.

Daisy must have spent a fortune on it, something Green feels vaguely guilty about, but he tries to push the thought from his mind. At least the new tech can stream music and video.

He flops down on his bed, Eevee padding in a few lazy circles on his chest before curling up there. The soft fluff of her ears tickles his chin.

He puts his earbuds in. Eevee presses her head into the palm of his free hand, his fingers running through her fur as she begins to fall asleep, exhaling softly. With his other hand, Green flicks through the "recommended videos" section on his phone. It's mostly related to battling - analyses on Trainer strategies, interviews with Champions and Elite Four members, recordings of his old battles, some already watched. He barely recognizes the proud, cocky Trainer he used to be in the thumbnails.

Red's name and face flashes across his vision, and suddenly he feels sick.

He hasn't seen Red in _months._ A year now, almost. Not since Red shattered his dreams, taking the Champion title and his fame, and left Green behind. He disappeared off of the face of the Earth, leaving everyone - his old rival most of all - to wonder why, nothing more than a mystery filling the space he used to occupy. For all Green knows, he's dead. Captured by Team Rocket, or ambushed by a horde of wild pokémon, or something. As if any of those could possibly kill Red.

But the fact remains that Red is gone. And despite the anger, the jealousy, the snappy comments and the apologies left unsaid, Green would do anything to get rid of the void that Red left behind. They were friends before they were rivals, and Green can't help but wonder if taking the Championship from him is what made Red leave in the first place.

He doesn't even realize his fingers are clawing into Eevee's fur until she yelps in pain.

He apologizes profusely to her, petting her ears and neck until she licks him in forgiveness, and scrolls on, killing all thoughts of Red.

There’s a section that appears to be solely for music halfway through his feed. It’s mostly music videos repeated from the “trending” page - a testament to his lack of usage - with the occasional mix based off of a song or two. He taps on the first thing that catches his eye: a song by a Kantonian band he vaguely recognizes (which also happens to possess the only thumbnail with an actual _guitar_ in it, not that he cares), and its endless mix of related music.

As the first sounds of a distorted, powerful lead guitar begin to fill his ears, Green lies back and closes his eyes. Eevee’s breaths on his chest become softer, the rise and fall of her small frame almost undetectable as she falls deeper into sleep, her tail twitching every so often.

In a way, it's almost peaceful. Time passes by in a blur, measured in song-lengths rather than minutes, identifiable only by the flow of one verse into the next.

Despite his assignment, Green hardly listens to the lyrics beyond the first line. Most songs seem to be about a romance of some kind, and those that aren’t are far more angry at the world than he is, fading into background noise as he loses focus. Tension and doubt leaves him in waves with the rhythm of each distinct tune. He concentrates on nothing in particular, letting himself relax and tune out the world.

He doesn’t need to find comfort in the words. The song itself is good enough - each melody, instrument, and beat becoming a temporary haven. He doesn’t have to think about himself, or Oak, or Daisy, or (Arceus forbid) _Red,_ instead fading into a state of mindless solace for what feels like the first time since he was eleven, oblivious to the past or things to come.

The current song fades out, replaced by two clean, echoed guitars, one on either side of him, spacious and weaving together to create a distinct rhythm and lead.

_“Anybody is fine. Anybody is fine - is there anybody out there?”_

Suddenly Green is completely focused on the lyrics, and nothing else.

_“Can’t hear a voice, but I can feel a set of glaring eyes on me…”_

The singer’s voice is mid-range, deeper than Green’s, but not by much. He sounds almost deflated. His tone is soft, yet strong, its sound breathless and light before becoming far richer as he launches further into the first verse, propelled by a simple bassline and the kick of a drum. His words, sung in rapid-fire Kanto-go, are more of a stream of consciousness rather than a story. He isn’t angry at the world. Rather, he seems to feel lost, unsure of where to go and what to believe in a world far too small to dream in.

_“‘Just as I imagined’ - saying that would be a lie, but…”_

Somehow, Green has never felt more understood in his life. It’s a feeling that is equal parts reassuring and harrowing in a way he can’t quite explain.

_“Every day, every day, was like that, until you appeared in front of me, and-”_

_And suddenly I had a challenge to work toward,_ Green thinks, the image of a far younger Red appearing in his mind before he can repress it.

_"No matter what I do, no matter what I do, I can't move forward, as is the custom in this hippy town…"_

He thinks of Pallet Town - the stagnant, never-changing streets; the small, old houses, owned by the same families for ages; the killer of dreams for those who can’t bear to leave home. Tiny, meaningless Pallet Town, nothing notable about it aside from two Champions and a forgetful professor. The place he used to call home, turned suffocating and unbearable.

_“How can I, how can I find the reason? ‘It’s all important,’ that’s just to sound easy on the ears-”_

He hates it when his therapist is right. He hates being vulnerable, being read like a book, his defenses useless and his thoughts on display for all to see. But beyond that, beyond being broken down under the watchful gazes of others, he hates his own true feelings for what they are. The guilt, the regret, the uncertainty, the unrelenting _loneliness,_ buried under layer after layer of snarkiness and cruelty. He builds an outer shell around his emotions, not for others, but for himself. Because every time he has to face them, every time he is forced to acknowledge their existence, it feels like he's stabbed himself through the heart, his repressed thoughts rushing out of him in a tidal wave, their presence reminding him that he is _not_ invincible. Even in the sanctuary of his own bedroom.

And yet, despite the fact that hearing the song feels like it's tearing him apart, a massive weight has been lifted off of him. It hurts, but there's comfort in knowing he's not the only one. Someone else has suffered through the dissatisfaction and the frustration and the pain and lived to tell the tale. If that person can accept it, write a song, and recover enough to share his work with the world, then the pain must be bearable. It might sting now, but it's only temporary. The knowledge of not being alone is a far greater comfort.

Breaking free of his temporary paralysis, Green minimizes the queue with a swipe of his thumb and creates a new playlist.

It asks him to input a name.

He hesitates. Something in him feels as if it's changed, no longer repressed and fought against, but finally heard for the first time in his life. He knows the process of dealing with himself is a long road. Months of seeing a professional provided minimal results, but results nonetheless, small breakthroughs that could be increased as the days go by. He knows that this will probably be his life for years to come, that issues like his are not fixed easily.

But he also knows that this is a start.

Finding comfort in something other than himself is a victory. Maybe, with time and practice, it can grow into something that will help him undo years of damage, instead of pretending like nothing is wrong. This tiny step could possibly help him more than anything.

Green is stubborn, and frustrated at himself and the world, but he doesn't want to be in pain anymore.

In that moment, he makes a decision. If making a playlist that resonates with him works, then he'll do it, not for his therapist, but for himself. It's time to grow up and move on. If music can keep his head out of the pain in his past and keep him moving forward, then fine, he'll keep this playlist going for the rest of his life.

He promises himself that this is not a one time thing. He is not going to add a song once, just for the sake of trying it out, and then leave it to rot. If it helps, then he'll stick to it for as long as he needs to. This playlist is going to end when he dies.

His fingers flying across the small keyboard, he gives the soundtrack to his life a name: _Green Oak's Infinite Playlist._

The song that pushed him over the edge still isn't over, its final chorus blasting through his earbuds from a small window in the bottom left corner of the screen. He opens it once more.

_"Scared of letting go, today, again, you stay…"_

Fighting back traitorous tears, Green adds his first song.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ! Thanks so much for reading so far !! Call me Sy, or Sycamoure, or Auggie ! This is my first fic on AO3, and my first _really_ published fic ever, so it means the world to me that anyone read it !
> 
> The original title for this was "Red & Green's Infinite Playlist", a reference to the book "Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist." I think that says a lot about the way this fic is going. I chose to keep Green's name as Green rather than Blue too, because it emphasizes the idea of complementary colors - Green and Red (the characters) are complements of each other, unable to exist fully without each other and relying on one another even though they are pretty much opposites, like the colors they represent. Anyway, this fic is a project to get creative energy out in a way that's very meaningful to me more than anything. A lot of this is based off of my real experiences with therapy, pets, etc. I'm really happy with how this first chapter came out, and I'm excited to continue it into the future ! I hope you can join me on this journey.
> 
> I have no experience with AO3, so I would appreciate if anyone could give me some tips on tags, or recommend I add or change anything to them. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated too !
> 
> The playlist that Green makes is real, by the way. I have it saved, and it's the soundtrack to when I write this. I would love to take suggestions for songs people think I should add! Please, don't hesitate to comment with a song you think works !!
> 
> See you soon !
> 
> Auggie
> 
> \---
> 
> NOTE 4/23/20
> 
> Hello ! I'm so sorry for being gone so long. I planned to have the new chapter up right now, but I've gotta be honest - it's hardly even started as of now. I hoped that quarantine would provide me more time to write, and it has, but it's also stolen my creativity and motivation. I can hardly write a single sentence without backtracking and getting discouraged. I'm so sorry, but this next bit is going to take longer than I thought.
> 
> I hope to have it ready by mid-May. Thank you all so much for your patience. I won't let you down.
> 
> Auggie


End file.
